


The Things We Do

by foundfamilyvevo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 13:08:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2813087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundfamilyvevo/pseuds/foundfamilyvevo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"It's our song, Paul!" Louis whinges, "you can't be mad at us for rehearsing."</em>
  <br/><em>It is their song, though, in more ways than one.</em>
</p>
<p>Or, snapshots of Zayn and Louis, and the song They Don't Know About Us.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things We Do

**Author's Note:**

> as always, biggest shout-out ever to the light of my life, the best preschool teacher on the face of the earth, and friendwife extraordinaire b tumblr user littlepetlouis: i do not know where i would be without your cheer-leading, pacing advice, and grammatical expertise. (probably with a bunch of short, abandoned w.i.p.s full of unnecessary commas.) also, to everyone else who listened to me complain a lot about this story: THANKS.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is based upon stage and media representations of people provided to me and doesn't say anything about the actual people in question, who I have no rights to. In saying this, please don't send this work of utter fiction to anyone it involves! Thank you :")

I

Zayn and Louis have always had little things that are just for them. This is how Louis connects, Zayn supposes, by having things he doesn't have to share, and Zayn can understand why, can understand why Louis is scared to let go of things once he has a solid grip on them. Sometimes it feels like everything they do is a Thing, like everything Zayn says becomes a catchphrase or a reference, and it's great. Zayn knows Louis likes him because Louis remembers things, and Louis knows Zayn likes him because Zayn tells him secrets anyway.

When they first hear They Don't Know About Us, they're still touring, they're still working on the second album, and every time they hear a new song it's like holding their breath, it's like crossing their fingers, it's like _pleaseletthisbeonethatwecareabout_.

As soon as they reach the chorus and Zayn hears, _they don't know about the things we do_ , he starts to grin to himself. On, _they would just be jealous of us_ , he looks up, and sees Louis already smirking at him from across the table. His heart lifts, and he's not sure they listen to any of the words past there.

 

 

II

Tour is wild and too much. That night, Zayn has to pull his blanket and pillow from his bunk because even the hotel is overstimulating. Niall is plucking at his guitar and Liam keeps coming in and out because he's restless, can't decide whether he's staying at the bus or the hotel, and Harry's _breathing_ is starting to bother Zayn. That's enough for him to know he has to separate himself. He leaves the room and heads down the stairs to Bus 1.

It doesn't take long. Louis knocks on the metal door five, maybe ten minutes after Zayn arrives, and Zayn makes an "mm" sound so that Louis knows he's there.

Sliding inside, Louis makes sure to close the door behind him before spreading his own blanket out over the floor and dumping his pillow next to Zayn's head. "I brought Ironman," he says, voice loud and sharp but below the decibels to echo off the walls.

"I'd rather just..." Zayn gestures weakly with his arm, and Louis gets it. He doesn't put disclaimers on his sentences (never really did), but Zayn isn't scared to say no to him. He knows the option is always there.

"Okay," says Louis, and lies down with a soft thump on his side on the bunk, nose-to-nose with Zayn. Zayn runs a hand from Louis's shoulder to his waist, enjoying the change from the sharper bones of his shoulder and elbow down to the curves of his stomach, his hips. Louis is all contradictions, tough in some places and abruptly soft in others. Zayn smiles to himself as he closes his eyes.

 

 

III

The song becomes another joke, another Thing, along with their matching tattoos and the nights out and the reading of comic books and their pranks together. A thing the way that Zayn is the one Louis comes to when he's stressed and homesick and fierce, because Zayn can cope in a way that the others can't. Harry takes too much to heart, and Niall doesn't know how to coax out answers, and Liam tries too hard. Zayn knows how to handle Louis's claws, knows how not to get scratched.

Sometimes when Paul asks where the hell they've been, Louis will sing softly _they don't know about us_ and as Paul throws his hands up in exasperation, Zayn echoes back _and if they did, they'd just be jealous of us._

"What is wrong with you two?" he asks sadly.

"It's our song, Paul!" Louis whinges, "you can't be mad at us for rehearsing."

It is their song, though, in more ways than one.

 

 

IV

The fame is something foreign. Zayn has to shield his eyes from the lights some days, and then others he's all about the glare, all about letting it flood over him until he can't see, can't hear. They're breaking records that didn't even exist, they might be the most successful group of the year (Simon thinks they might be the most successful group in history) and it's so much to take in.

Today is a good day for it, though. He and Louis keep tumbling into each other and laughing - Louis keeps kicking him under the table at their meetings, keeps poking him during interviews to see if he'll break. All day, Zayn is giddy. He loves them, he loves Harry and Niall and Liam and Louis, and he can't express to anyone just how much.

 

When he's lying in bed, he leans over the edge of the bunk and whispers, "Are you --?"

"Hi," Louis whispers back, as if he was waiting for Zayn to ask.

"Come up here," Zayn offers. He doesn't have to state it like a question because he knows how Louis will interpret it, and sometimes it feels like they know each other inside out, sometimes it feels like he doesn't even have to say a word. Louis jumps, fairy-light, from his ladder to Zayn's. It's a step across the void of a tour bus that, for all they know, could go on forever in the dark. The other boys are right there, but as they're asleep it feels like he and Louis could be alone in the great expanse of road outside.

"Hi," Louis murmurs again, when his head pops up, his hair in Zayn's face, and Zayn splutters as he shuffles over. Louis wriggles in behind him and flops an arm over Zayn's chest, hand resting somewhere suspiciously close to Zayn's nipple. (And his heart, but that's less of a worry for the time being.)

"Tell me a secret," says Louis, once he's settled himself in.

"I don't know if I have any left," Zayn tells him. It's true; keeping things to himself is one of his specialties, but it's hard to leave any stone unturned in a life like this, together every hour of every day and loving each other through all of it.

"Then make one," Louis demands, crossing his ankle over Zayn's. "I want you to tell me something you've never told anyone. Something true, though."

Zayn tries, he really does, but he comes up empty-handed. "Sorry," he shrugs. "We're too good friends, I s'pose."

Louis huffs, and it turns into a yawn. He's obviously getting sleepy. "Okay," he murmurs. "Okay, well, let's make something happen and not tell anyone about it."

"Right," says Zayn. He's not sure what to do with that, either. "I promise not to tell anyone that you and I had this conversation."

"And don't tell anyone about our song," Louis says quietly.

"Which song?" Zayn asks, even though he knows which song.

"Our song." Louis burrows down under the blanket. "I mean, people will hear it, and they'll know it's our song, but they don't have to know it's _our song_ , you know?"

"Okay," says Zayn easily and links pinkies. "Promise."

 

The next day, things are a little more tiring, and Zayn phones his mum when they get a rare break in the mid-afternoon. He's not sure where they are, but he knows it's only just in time to catch her before she goes to bed.

He's catching her up, telling her about the tour and how great Liam is sounding and he's watching Niall and Louis kick a football around outside.

"How's Louis?" she asks.

It takes him aback slightly, but then he answers, "Good. Worn out, a little. I think he misses home," he tells her, because telling his mum that sort of thing is okay.

"We miss you here," she murmurs, and he smiles a little.

"Miss you all, too. Got the boys, though, we've got each other. I'm alright, I am."

Harry walks past and asks, "Where's Niall?" Zayn points outside and Harry nods, "Thanks, man."

"Mum says hi to you all," Zayn adds, when she does.

Breaking out into a huge smile, Harry waves at the phone. "Hi, Trisha! I'll tell Louis, he'll be thrilled." Then he's off again.

"Don't know what he's on about," Zayn laughs.

"I'm glad about you and Louis," his mum says, tone surprisingly gentle. "Don't rush, though, sweetheart. You've got a lot of time."

He's not sure what that means, honestly, but sometimes mums give advice that doesn't make sense until you need it to. "Okay, will do," he answers. "Tell me more about the girls, anyway."

 

 

V

Post-tour, they travel to Stockholm, immersing themselves in working on the album. Their hotel is around the corner from the studio, literally a few doors down, and being there is weird. It's like they've stepped out of real life for awhile to be in this parallel universe of singing and learning new parts every day and being around each other just as much as when they're on tour.

It's late at night, too late to be at the studio, but Louis has been called in for recording and he looks nervous, and Zayn doesn't want him to have to go in by himself. So, in an act of ultimate sacrifice and friendship, he gets out of bed and says, "I have solos later, might as well come with you now, enjoy the company."

Louis raises an eyebrow. Zayn can't blame him. He's never voluntarily gotten out of bed.

"Sure," Louis shrugs. "If you want."

Zayn smiles, and Louis smiles back almost instinctively, like he didn't mean to, like he can't help it. Zayn pulls on his hoodie and grabs the book he's reading and then nods to Louis as soon as he's ready.

 

It's cold in the studio, but not too cold. Cold enough that Zayn pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his cheek on his book, warm enough that he leaves his hood down. There's a long amount of time where Julian leads Louis through the lyrics, explains the inflection and rhythm, plays him the instrumental through his headphones. Zayn lets his eyelids flutter as he watches Louis's face, private and absorbed, not a presentation or a picture, entirely focused on something inside his head. Louis is all noise, Louis is fierce and fiery and pure, but sometimes when he's quiet Zayn can hear him better.

They start recording harmonies for the track, and Zayn closes his eyes completely. Louis's voice is high and, at this time of the night, bordering on pitchy, but it's familiar and enough to make him smile. _They don't know about us_.

After Julian is happy, he starts talking in low voices with Louis about his solo, and Zayn keeps thinking about this song and hoping and praying it doesn't get cut.

Then Louis is waiting again, for the music to come to the right place for him to record, and -

"They don't know how special you are, they don't know what you've done to my heart,"

\- and _oh._

Something clicks, like the hand on a clock, switching over to the next minute, the next hour, the next step. Zayn looks up. Louis looks at him, too, and then looks away, and then looks at him again, holding his gaze this time.

And Zayn thinks about how this is their song. About how very much this is their song.

 

Louis hangs around for Zayn's recording, too, and Zayn can't stop staring at him, and Louis stares back just as much. They're good at talking with their eyes, but not good enough.

Julian becomes fondly exasperated after awhile and says, "Zayn, you guys can go if you want. We'll have a bit of catching up to do, though."

Zayn feels like he and Louis have a _lot_ of catching up to do. "Yeah, uh, could we? That'd be great."

"Sure. G'night, guys."

They say goodnight to the team, orbiting each other in a way, almost connected at the hip but holding a few inches of distance between them. Zayn's always known they were magnets for one another, but he's never been sure which way they faced.

It's cold out on the curb, walking the block and a half back to the hotel. Zayn keeps catching Louis looking at him when he's trying to subtly look at Louis.

"So," says Louis eventually, "I s'pose even we didn't know about us."

Zayn laughs, breathless. "Guess everyone else did, then?"

"Guess so," Louis agrees. He stops Zayn by pressing his pinkie finger to Zayn's, the length of their hands touching until they fade apart at the wrists. That's all it takes. "And now we know?"

Zayn shrugs and bites his lip. "Do we?"

Louis turns to face him fully, and Zayn mirrors him without a thought, because mirroring and syncronisation and push-and-pull are such fundamentals of himself and Louis that he doesn't even remember when they started. Then they're embracing, tightly, Louis's arms around his neck and Zayn's arms around Louis's waist, Louis's face in Zayn's shoulder and Zayn's nose in Louis's hair.

"We're still the same, right?" Louis checks.

"Of course," Zayn whispers. "Always."

Louis adjusts so that he fits more snugly against Zayn. "Even if things might be a bit weird while we sort this out."

"Yeah," says Zayn. "Promise. It's our song, yeah? It's just … more our song than we thought."

"Okay," says Louis. They take a moment to ease apart. Zayn smiles, and Louis lets out a breath and smiles back. Their fingers find each other (one-two-three-four-five, sometimes Zayn thinks he knows Louis's hands better than he knows his own), and that's how they walk back.

 

 

VI

When they finally do tell anybody, they tell the boys, because it's the right thing to do. They don't really know what they are yet, they haven't put a name to the way that Louis's breathing is sometimes the only soundtrack that can quieten Zayn's mind and the way that Zayn's hands keep finding themselves on Louis's face, in his hair, in a gentle way, even when they're laughing and shoving, and the fact that they want to spend the rest of their lives so curled up in each other it's hard to tell where one ends and the other starts.

Niall claims he's not surprised. Harry says they're not allowed to kiss in front of him, for fear of scarring his "sweet, innocent eyes". (They don't say that they haven't kissed yet, or kissed in a way that's different to how they had before, and that they're not sure they ever want to). Liam tries very hard to be all business, but Louis can see he's upset. When Zayn finally asks why, Liam's bottom lip wobbles and he says he's sorry for making fun of them at that show a few weeks ago, as if that ever mattered to them.

They gather him up in a hug before he has a chance to say any more. Niall joins in, and Harry would die before he was left out of a group cuddle, and in the midst of it, Zayn looks across the circle and sees Louis looking back at him. Louis smiles, a brilliant smile that curls up his mouth and squints his eyes, and leans right over the circle to murmur in Zayn's ear, "Tell me a secret."

Zayn rests his temple against Louis's and whispers back, "You asked me to tell you a secret and I didn't have one left."

"That's fine, just whisper while we're right here," says Harry, pouting.

Niall laughs and slaps his back. "Reckon they're going to be like this all the time now, mate," and Liam gives an exaggerated sigh.

The thing is, it's the same as it always has been. Zayn has a feeling that's how it always will be.

 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are lovely and i appreciate all of them!! find me on tumblr at gentlezayn


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